


Per my last email

by vuas



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub, Not even an attempt at a plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Size Kink, exhibitionist kink if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23649529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vuas/pseuds/vuas
Summary: “I’m on a call,” he hisses, covering the mic with one hand.“I know,” Rey grins, cheeky to boot, and kneels at his feet.Rey decides to make the most of quarantine.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 113
Kudos: 1007





	Per my last email

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Согласно моему последнему письму](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23819347) by [Scofie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scofie/pseuds/Scofie)



> My wine supply is deteriorating by the second

Rey has never been idle for so long—by day twenty of quarantine, she’s considering taking up _knitting_ , for god sake. It’s the last straw. Too much reality tv, too much junk food and not enough outlets for her usual boundless optimism have dulled her energy down to a permanent sulk.

When she returns back from her government mandated walk, Ben is still working at his home computer. The ultimate irony of this whole situation was that while Rey had nothing going for her except a puzzle on the kitchen table, Ben was maxed out, taking conference calls fifteen times a day for his firm. He was anxious and irritated because nothing irked him more than inefficiency, and even Rey could tell from what she’d overheard (and from his increasingly short fuse) that things weren’t going well for them.

His routine followed roughly the same schedule each day—wake up before dawn, skip breakfast until Rey brought him a steaming mug of coffee that he would accept with a weary smile and a kiss, then he’d work through lunch, yelling at people into his phone while his salad wilted—then four to six hours of typing with such vigor that Rey was sure his keyboard was going to snap in two.

When the calls would finally drop off around six, he would sulk at his desk for another few hours working steadily through spreadsheets and beige software, muttering about fixing other people’s mistakes.

And finally— _finally_ when it was dark out: he would drag himself to the living room couch and collapse with his head in her lap, coaxing her into giving his scalp a massage while he rested his eyes and nuzzled into her belly.

Rey was always eager to oblige, a soft smile painting her face when she gazed down at him, his too long legs dangling off the end. She likes the comfort of this routine in their new normal.

Today, on the afternoon of day twenty-three, that peaceful couch cuddle was still hours away—Rey finishes up her afternoon jog, letting herself back into the apartment as quietly as possible, tiptoeing past the spare room serving as an office, where Ben’s voice rumbles low with irritation.

“Well, they can take it and like it,” he growls at whomever is the lucky individual of the day—Rey can almost hear his temple throbbing. “We’re tied up, and they think they can take advantage—“ there’s a soft ding announcing an email—“ _fuck_ , always fighting back this one. Well, they can resist all they want, but when _I_ get my hands on—“

“Holy _shit_ —“ Rey whispers to the door, struggling to compose herself. It’s surprising—both that he talks like that without realizing his double entendres—and that Rey is so, _so_ attuned to his voice that just eavesdropping makes her wet.

“I’m not pleased,” he continues, the bass of his voice registering thick through the wood. “They can grovel at my feet if they want it bad enough.”

And with that—Rey finds a new purpose on day twenty-three.

* * *

It takes Rey approximately 45 minutes to do the _I’m getting laid or else_ shower, which includes a hair mask, a meticulous shave and _only_ a quarter bottle of coconut oil.

When the bottom of the tub is sufficiently slippery to assassinate the next user, Rey steps out, spritzes her perfume and puts on her shortest sundress. It hits just below her ass and has been referred to in the past as _the hem that almost made Benjamin Solo trip up a flight of stairs._

Which is good—Ben’s been so exhausted that he just crawls into bed at night with a sleepy apology kiss and immediately starts snoring into her ear. Rey loves him, but she also _misses_ him. It’s funny how even now they’re trapped together, she’s been feeling a little lonely. 

Rey pauses in the hallway, forcing her pulse to slow.

She can hear tinny voices trying to talk over each other on his speaker, the creak of his chair as he shuffles through papers. 

The soft _hum_ noise Ben makes in his chest when considering something.

Rey tries to wipe the smile off her face, but she can’t—she _loves_ him.

She pushes the door open and strides in with purpose—Ben lights up, eyes quickly taking her in, but part of him hesitates—he raises his brows in a silent query: _what do you need?_

“ _Put it on mute_ ,” she whisper-demands, gesturing towards his headset. 

He frowns, as if trying to puzzle her out. His gaze flickers towards her bare thighs— _yes_ , Rey thinks triumphantly, _take the bait, you fool—_

His eyes flick back to the screen. “ _This meeting is for another hour_ —“ he hisses quietly through his teeth, and he’s definitely trying to look mad _but_ he’s also not ushering her out to door.

“ _Put it,_ ” Rey toys with the button between her breasts. “ _On_ mute.”

Ben’s eyes go as wide as saucers, and he fumbles with his phone as she stalks forward.

“Rey,” he sighs, reflexively covering the mic even though he’s just changed the audio settings to mute. “I’m on a call right now—“

She shrugs the bodice of her sundress down just underneath the swell of her breasts. 

“I _know_ , Ben,” She murmurs, gently brushing his thigh as she sinks to her knees before his chair.

“Fuck,” he swears, reaching out fingertips to trace below her collarbone. “Holy—jesus, baby— _now_?”

“Ben,” she playfully admonishes, pulling his rapidly hardening cock free from his jeans. “Pay attention. Aren’t you the boss?”

Her eyes flick up to judge his expression and it is glorious—slack-jawed awe, his neck and ears creeping pink. He has one hand clenched on the arm rest, the other reflexively reaching towards her. 

Rey flicks out her tongue, lapping at the slit.

“Yes—oh, fucking _perfect_ , baby—I’m the godamned Boss,” he mutters, looking at her like she’s made of gold.

His head tilts back when she eagerly fills her mouth with him. Rey has discovered since they’ve been dating that she really loves doing this. It feels good to make _him_ feel good—and to be honest, it sparks something in her, the duality of the act. On her knees, small and pliable—yet she’s the one determinedly coaxing him to release.

Rey takes her time with finding a rhythm, enjoying every twitch, every clenched fist. She observes him until she manages to get far enough that she chokes on his length—then it becomes instinct to open her throat, spit dribbling down her chin, whimpering as he fills up more and more of her.

“Rey,” he huffs. “I love that little mouth—fuck. Bet you’ve ruined those panties, huh? My little toy, just waiting around to get her pussy stretched open?”

Rey hums in affirmation, pushing until tears sting her eyes—and then further, gagging herself on his cock, jaw aching. _I love you,_ she thinks, _and I love this dick_.

He’s obviously pent up; Ben is terribly close awfully quick. He grunts, thighs flexing, his spine as taut as a bow—his hand—how she loves his massive hands—presses down insistently on the back of her head, tangling in her hair, bobbing her as he wants—

He groans, yanking her off with a gritty expression. Rey hiccups, feeling messy and indulgent. She raises a hand to wipe her chin, nuzzling into his palm. 

“Why did you stop m— _oh_!”

She’s hauled up in the blink of an eye—Ben just holds her dangling in the air for a moment, shoving his papers aside before unceremoniously bending her over his desk.

“Because—“ he snarls, flipping up her dress, pushing down between her shoulder-blades to pin her to the surface, “you’re begging to be fucked properly.” Ben yanks down her underwear to mid thigh and spanks her ass hard enough to make her squeak. “And _I’m_ the fucking boss.”

“Yes,” she whines eagerly. “Ben—Ben, please—“

His cock is already soaked, and for a few strokes he just pushes leisurely between her thighs, making sure to bump her clit and make her squirm. 

“Look at you. Messy girl. Gags on my cock and begs for more.”

Rey whines, tilting her hips, pushing up on her toes. “Ben, fill me up, please. I _need_ —“

She sucks in a breath at the initial stretch—it’s almost never too easy, and to be fair she likes it: likes knowing her body has to push to accommodate him. The feeling of being bent over and stretched open is unbelievable; she shivers and moans and wriggles but Ben just keeps pushing into her—

“It’ll fit, _hush_. This fucking dress,” he hisses into her neck. “Is always getting you into trouble, baby.”

“Yeah,” she warbles weakly, feeling boneless as she’s slowly split in two.

“But I think—“ he thrusts shallowly, and Rey gasps as his cock nudges inside. “I think you like being in trouble, little one. Do you like driving me crazy? Want me to teach you a lesson, hmm?”

She grins down at the table. “Yeah,” she wiggles her hips, grinding on his dick. “Show me who’s boss.”

The thing about Ben is—of course, he’s large in every way and you can tell just by looking at him. But he’s also spent a lifetime trying to crouch down and fit himself into smaller spaces for other people. When he lets go—when he allows himself to take up what he needs—

Ben presses himself over where she’s pinned against the grained wood and has the gall to chuckle in her ear. She can’t move an inch other than the occasional tremble of her thighs and—

“Squeeze my cock with that pretty pussy.”

A strangled noise makes its way from her throat when she does—tensing and relaxing and trying so, so hard to give him what he asks for.

“Shit,” he huffs, blowing her hair over her shoulder. “So you can be a good girl?”

“ _Mhmm_ ,” She answers, closing her eyes and trying not to claw at the desk. “For you, Ben.”

Ben shifts back up to stand straight and Rey feels her lungs expand without the pressure of his weight—the ensuing rush of oxygen burns in her lungs and sparks her vision, but she doesn’t have too long to appreciate it.

There’s one hand yanking her left thigh up parallel with the desk and the other between her shoulder blades, holding her still to his liking—she’s stretched out to capacity like this, up on top toes on her right leg. And then he—

There’s a high pitched whine for _more_ , and Rey belatedly realizes it’s coming from _her_. Because Ben is— _really_ fucking her. Every slide of his cock is as deep as he can get, touching all the right places, big enough to almost be too much. 

“You can be such a little _brat_ , you know that? But— _jesus, you’re tight_ —always turns out you just need a hard fuck, hmm?”

“Yeah—Ben, _please_ —wanna come—“

“You gonna come on my cock, sweetheart?”

Rey nods deliriously. “I’ll be good, I swear—“

Ben clicks his tongue. “Poor thing.” The snap of his hips is unrelenting—Rey fantasizes it will go on forever.

Rey can’t even squirm a hand down to her clit, too busy holding on for dear life—but wonderful Ben apparently takes mercy upon her and uses a knee to spread her legs wider until he can reach. Rey arches her back and cries out when two of his fingers slide across her clit, moving in tight circles with gentle pressure, and his fingers are big enough that it’s nearly overstimulating—everywhere at once.

“ _Beeen_ ,” she moans, “I’m gonna— _mmpf_!”

The hand on her shoulder blades shifts to cover her mouth—he effectively gags her, muffling any wanton cries by holding her jaw shut and digging his fingertips into her cheek.

“Be _quiet_ , baby. I’m on a call, remember?”

She knows—realistically that he had triple checked to make sure his audio was muted. And _yet_ —

Ben nuzzles the side of her face, hips digging into her ass. “You can come. I’ll fill you up, don’t worry. “

Rey follows orders, sobbing into the hand over her mouth, her entire body trembling. She’s a mess of shaky limbs and spit and tangled hair, and her dress is wrinkled and she feels so, so good.

Ben is on the brink of control and she tries not to blush at the new wetness between her legs as her keeps grinding into her. She whimpers at the stretch, but it’s comforting to just lay there, a pretty thing for him to fuck as he likes. 

“Ben,” she whines, nipping at his palm. “Want you to come in me—“

Unsurprisingly that does the trick—Ben chokes and drives deep, twitching against her, squeezing her waist hard enough to bruise.

Rey winces—there’s the odd sensation of his spend, white hot inside of her, and then he’s pulling out, tugging at her limbs and pulling her into his lap when he maneuvers them both back to the chair.

She’s rewarded with little kisses as he reaches around her for the forgotten headset— Rey smiles and preens between his thighs.

“Yeah,” Ben says, slightly too loud and Rey jerks, realizing he’s put himself back onto the call. He grins at her a split second before slapping a hand over her mouth and easing the other between her legs, pushing a deft finger inside of her cunt while Rey swallows a moan. “We can circle back next week on this if necessary.” He adds a second finger, fucking her with them casually, drawing his own spend out to coat her thighs. 

Rey blinks at him with wide eyes, terrified to make any noise, but she cant help it—She’s pretty sure the _accidental_ brush against her clit with the heel of his hand is quite the _opposite_ —

“What? Oh nothing. I think my girlfriend has the tv on. Talk to you Monday.”

Rey glowers but is quick to forgive when Ben chuckles and wraps his arms around her, ushering her up.

“We should shower. I’ll fix up the desk later—what do you want for dinner?”

“Hmmm,” Rey stretches like a cat, tugging the dress back into some semblance of decency. “Can we order a pizza?”

“Sure, go ahead and call!” He agrees, halfway around the corner.

Rey blinks. It’s like there’s _something_ she’s forgetting—

There’s a loud crash that comes from the bathroom accompanied by a startled cry.

_Oh yeah,_ she remembers, darting down the hallway, _I didn’t clean up all that coconut oil._

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all: “can you....like...work on ur outstanding fics maybe?”
> 
> Me: “ok but LISTEN.”


End file.
